


Perfect Ache

by thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)



Series: Exquisite Red [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M, Necrophilia, Post AHBL, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:59:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5934301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/thedropoutandthejunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know Sam and Dean Winchester are psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent on each other, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Ache

**Author's Note:**

> This is exactly what it says on the label.

He’s going to put a shotgun in his mouth when it’s all said and done. That’s what he tells himself, at least; anything to cling to some kind of weak excuse. He’s going to hell anyway, suicide won’t make that much difference in light of all the other shit he’s done. Including this. 

  


Bobby’s gone, probably for more booze and to get away from Dean’s manic behavior. He’ll probably come back drunk or come back so late he won’t bother to look in on Dean. That’s fine. 

  


Sam looks like he’s asleep, now that Dean’s wiped all the blood and grime off his little brother’s face. With tentative footsteps, Dean moves toward the bed, gingerly sitting down next to Sam. Tan skin is cold, but still soft; it hasn’t been long enough for rigor to truly set in. 

  


“M’sorry, Sammy. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

  


Fumbling fingers strip off his clothes and Sam’s, and he nearly throws up at the arousal that comes when he holds bloody fabric in his hands. Sam’s all dead weight, long legs easy to push up and open as Dean crawls between them. Part of him feels sick, but his cock rises hard and steady between his legs, a clear indicator of what he wants regardless of what his emotions say. Even though it’s unnecessary, Dean still spares a moment to prep Sam’s hole, slicking it with lube and spreading the rest on his own cock. 

  


He’s not going to last long, not from the moment the tip of his dick pushes inside Sam’s slack body. Dean bends down over his brother’s body and presses their chests together, torn between enjoying the stillness and feeling his heart shred further at the lack of warmth and movement. Sam was always handsy in bed, biting and scratching, demanding more and more from Dean. Now, there’s only the rough sound of Dean’s own breath in the room, only Dean’s body shifting the rusty springs of the mattress. Cradling his fingers around Sam’s skull, Dean pumps his hips with abandon, letting the pleasure wash over him as he buries his face against Sam’s neck to try to drown in little brother scent. 

  


Sam already smells like death.

  


The creak of the crappy bed is loud, making Dean’s face burn where it’s hidden and he’s more than grateful there’s no one around this shithole of a town. Clenching his teeth, Dean can feel trickles of tears rolling down his cheeks and dripping onto Sam as he comes with rough jerks. Come runs out onto the bed when he pulls free, stumbling toward the bathroom to throw up nothing but bile. 

  


Dean manages to clean up and  get them redressed before Bobby comes back, trying to ply him with food or beer or anything besides staring at Sam’s corpse. Dean can’t even look him in the eye, sure that his surrogate father will be able to finally see all the dirty things twisted up inside him. Instead, Bobby sighs and ambles off to bed, leaving Dean alone with his thoughts in the dark. 

  


Before he knows it, he’s pushing the pedal to the floor of the Impala, contents of the little metal box beside him as she rumbles over cracked asphalt. He stumbles to his knees and digs with bare hands until his nails are torn and bloody, setting the box in the dirt and covering it with blood-muddied fingers. He’s surprised his soul is worth what the demon offers him, and he doesn’t hesitate to press his mouth to hers. 

  


He can still taste the sulfur when he gets back to the house, but Bobby’s running out to meet him, eyes dark as he grabs Dean by the shoulders and shakes him. “What did you do, boy? Just what the hell did you do?” 

  


Dean’s focus shifts to the movement over Bobby’s shoulder, and he suddenly can’t breathe. Sam’s there, in the doorway, face dark and knowing. Shoving Bobby aside, Dean tosses “What I had to,” over his shoulder, running toward the house to yank Sam into his arms. 

  


“Don’t you ever fucking do that again, Sam.” 

  


Sam pulls back far enough to look Dean in the eye, and for a second Dean swears his brother is going to punch him. Instead, he pulls Dean in for a kiss, Bobby’s presence be damned. 

  


“They can’t have you,” he growls against Dean’s mouth. “I’ll kill all of them before they take you.” 

  


A sizzle of power runs between them at Sam’s words, and Dean takes them for truth. He’s not sure what he’s done, but he can’t regret it when they’re back in the car, barrelling down the highway toward whatever end may come. 


End file.
